Genesis
by honalooloo
Summary: Set directly before Series 3 of CBBC's Young Dracula. It's Ryan's 20th birthday, and he and Erin are out on the town to celebrate. But two trained slayers should know that it's foolish to stay out after dark unarmed, and, when disaster strikes, family ties are put to the test and the life Erin knows is thrown into disarray... CHAPTER 5 IS UP
1. Chapter 1

_DISCLAIMER: I own none of the Young Dracula characters or locations etc. The only thing I own is the plot of the story._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I've been dying to write this fic for about five months, but I wanted to finish my trilogy before I got started on it. I was originally planning to hold off from writing until after my AS exams in May/June, but I've been ill since Thursday so I thought I'd get this started to take my mind off how grim I feel! Basically, this fic is going to be my interpretation of the events leading up to Erin's first appearance in Episode 1, when she saved Ingrid from the slayers. The details of Ryan's biting were never really explained in the series, neither was Erin's past, so I thought they would be interesting to explore. You're probably looking at anywhere between five and ten chapters with this fic. There are some nods to my trilogy, but you don't need to have read it to understand anything here- 'tis all rather self-explanatory. Anyway, waffling over, I hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 1

"ERIN!" Ryan roared, fumbling for the light switch in the hall, "You about ready?"

"In a minute!"

"It's gone nine o'clock already!"

"I said in a minute!"

_Boys_, thought Erin irritably, wrenching open the door of her wardrobe to examine her appearance in the mirror. They just didn't understand that a girl couldn't be rushed when she was preparing for a night out- and tonight wasn't just any night. Tonight was Ryan's 20th birthday celebrations, and Erin would be damned if she was going to look anything other than her best. As Ryan's younger sister by nearly three years, her friends at school often found it difficult to understand their closeness; after all, Ryan was in his second year at university and Erin had only just started sixth form. She knew of no other elder brothers who would invite their little sister out to a party. But she and Ryan had always been more than siblings; perhaps bonded by the isolation that having slayers as parents brought (and highly-respected ones at that), Erin had always thought of Ryan as a combination of brother, father and best friend.

She examined her reflection in the glass. The dress, a navy blue, A-line number with a halter-neck, was certainly not typical party wear by any standards. It fell below her knees, for one thing, and the relatively demure neck-line meant that she was unlikely to be drawing the eyes of any boys on the prowl that night. Her make-up was minimal, her short blonde hair neatly combed; Erin knew she looked more fourteen than seventeen, but surrounded by Ryan and his friends she'd easily be able to slip into the club without any bother. She had her heels, anyway- they'd serve to boost her diminutive height by a few inches. Yes. All in all, she'd scrubbed up rather nicely.

There was the sound of angry footsteps stomping up the stairs, pausing outside of the bedroom. "Erin!" Ryan yelled, hammering fiercely on the door, "Will you hurry up please? We're already late and I told you we had to leave by nine o'clock latest-"

"Coming!" Erin sang, closing the wardrobe with a snap and snatching up her heels. She shrugged on her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder, slicking on a quick coat of lip-gloss with her free hand as she made her way over to the door. Pulling it open with a flourish, she flashed her brother a sweet smile. "Ready."

"And about time too," he snapped grumpily, though his face instantly softened as he took in her appearance. He waited for her to cram her feet into her shoes before the pair made their way down the stairs and into the hall. Their parents were still at the office- surprise, surprise- and so Erin took great care to ensure that the front door was locked as it snapped shut behind them. The clocks were due to go back in a few weeks and the streetlamps had already been lit, giving the row of large, detached, red-brick houses a gloomy look as artificial light flooded the close. "Aren't you freezing?" Ryan asked her. Erin nodded, jogging up and down on the spot.

"Come on," she exhaled, teeth chattering, "My legs feel like icicles."

The walk into the city centre took a little over fifteen minutes. Their breath puffed out before them in the biting night air, as white and as opaque as sea mist. It had been an unusually bitter October, and Erin was severely regretting neglecting to put on tights. The stars glittered coldly above them. The sky, tonight a vast expanse of indigo, stretched away bleakly overhead, for once unblemished by the flashing lights of aeroplanes and helicopters coming in to land at East Midlands Airport. The streets were quiet, empty until they reached the town; the traffic growled steadily, quite unaffected by the lateness of the hour, and the yellow glow of shops and restaurants spilled out into the road. Ryan was texting frantically, narrowly avoiding careering into a group of girls who were smoking on a street corner. They shrieked and whooped as Erin grabbed his arm to keep him walking in a straight line.

"Bit young for you, isn't she?" one of them called coarsely, much to the appreciation of her friends. Erin blushed furiously, but Ryan barely looked up from his phone.

"Ignore them," he muttered distractedly, "Drunken idiots." His phone pinged urgently; he quickly scanned the message. "Matt says they're all waiting for us outside the front entrance. Aaron's not turned up yet but I think he said he was going to be late."

Erin smiled, humming slightly to herself as she and Ryan drew closer to the club. She hadn't had a night out in months. Her parents hadn't even allowed her a party on her seventeenth- they'd said she was still too young. Imagining her parents' expressions if they could see her and her brother now only caused Erin's smile to widen. They were constantly reminding the pair of them to never stay out later than eight o'clock and always be home before dark; their paranoia was presumably the result of their encounters with vampires, but it wasn't as though the siblings could explain that to their friends. It was a constant source of worry for both Erin and Ryan that their classmates considered them to be 'uncool'. Ryan had more freedom than his sister, of course, being a university student, but their father always seemed to be turning up on campus 'quite by accident' every few weeks. Erin knew Ryan was bitterly regretting selecting the University of Warwick for his Engineering course; it was only a forty-five minute drive from their home, and he was being mercilessly ridiculed about his parents' continuous impromptu visits. Erin had long since vowed that she would boycott any university within a hundred mile radius of Leicester.

* * *

The club was hot and noisy. It was an unfortunate fact that Leicester couldn't boast of many clubs to its name, and the few that _were_ in existence weren't exactly staunch rivals to Las Vegas- but they did the job. The one the group had decided to start the evening in had a low ceiling, panelled with black, faux-granite tiles to match the floor. Heavy metal tables and chairs, screwed into the floor, marked the edges of the dance floor. The lights were low and pulsating, the music ear-splittingly loud (and very much not to Erin's taste- she did so hate dubstep). The bar appeared to be the place of refuge for those who desired to hear themselves think; lit up brightly with garish pink, orange and green lamps, every brand of spirit, liquor and cocktail was available- if, of course, one was prepared to take out a second mortgage.

Ryan had refused to buy Erin any alcohol (and had given his friends strict instructions to do the same), but he had relented over a couple of vodka shots and she was by now feeling pleasantly tipsy. The most alcohol she had ever consumed in her life was a half-glass of champagne at Christmas, and after the initial shock of the sharp liquor scorching her throat she could sense her inhibitions slipping away. She wasn't so far gone as to attempt dancing- particularly not with the rather loutish lad in the skinny tie who was making eyes at her from the other side of the bar- but she felt deliciously warm and giggly. She even consented to let Eddie, Ryan's best friend, give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and tell her that she looked like the china doll his sister had had when she was seven. The dubious compliment was somewhat ruined by Eddie going into detail about how he had destroyed said doll with his skateboard after his sister had accidentally dropped his goldfish down the sink.

Erin didn't feel in the least intimidated being surrounded by so many boys, all of whom had left school and were either in employment or studying alongside Ryan at Warwick. She'd grown up around Ryan and his friends, and her parents had never exactly encouraged her to take up the more typically girly hobbies. Fencing, tennis, even rowing for a time until her father had decided that it was a "gentleman's sport". She'd been allowed to take up ballet, which she had secretly loved more than any of the other activities put together, but after her mother had seen what pointe work had done to her feet she had promptly withdrawn her from the classes.

"After all," her father had said, whilst her mother had tossed Erin's leotards into the recycling, "You can hardly _pirouette_ the vampires to death!" He had laughed heartily at his own joke, whilst Erin had glumly shoved her ballet shoes to the back of the wardrobe and donated her Tchaikovsky CD to the school music department. That, coupled alongside her short hair and casual clothes, resulted in relentless teasing from her fellow sixth-formers for being a tomboy, but she just didn't go in for all of that hair-straightening, body-con skirt stuff- quite honestly, it was far too much hassle, and given the choice she'd much rather spend an extra ten minutes in bed.

Erin swung round as she heard a unmistakeably drunken voice raucously call her name. She grinned as she spotted her brother staggering towards her, a pint glass in one hand and a Scotch in the other. "So you're allowed to get smashed and I'm only allowed two shots?" she demanded good-naturedly, gently prising the drinks out of Ryan's hands and setting them down carefully on the bar. She peered around the club, the flashing lights turning her vision slightly fuzzy. "Where's everyone else?"

Ryan smirked, loosening his tie and messing up his hair as a gaggle of giggling girls sauntered past. Erin rolled her eyes. "The last time I saw Eddie he was dancing with some blonde girl; Matt's over there-" he pointed across the bar- "talking to some guy who works at Ford about work experience; Aaron's still not turned up yet; Sam's snogging the face off that girl he chatted up when we first arrived; and I don't actually know where Dylan is." He counted his friends off on his fingers, grinning lopsidedly. "Not bad for a night's work, I suppose." He reached across Erin for his pint glass; she intercepted him by pressing her half-drunk glass of Coke firmly into his hand.

"You'll thank me for it in the morning," she said severely. Ryan chortled, ruffling her hair; she batted his hand away irritably, immediately checking her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She hated having messy hair.

"Be careful," he warned, taking a large swig of the soft drink, "You're starting to sound like Mum. She's never known how to have a good time either." He slipped his arms around Erin's waist and pulled her off the bar stool, missing the look of hurt that crossed her face. "Come on," he said jovially, "Can't have you sat here like a gooseberry all night." He grabbed her hand and started to pull her towards the dance floor, barging unceremoniously through clusters of sweaty, screaming students.

Erin scowled, making a futile attempt to wrench her hand out of his grasp. "I don't like dancing," she snapped. Ryan raised his eyebrows, but decided to laugh it off.

"Well, if you won't dance with me, you can at least dance with Matt. He's been sat talking to that guy all night, poor lad." He nudged her forcefully in the direction of the two men. "Go and rescue him for me, will you?"

Erin dug in her heels stubbornly. "If I don't know how to have a good time then surely he'll be better off where he is," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She knew she was being childish, but being compared to her mother had caused her good mood to evaporate. She felt as though she had been doused in cold water.

Ryan narrowed his eyes. "I knew I shouldn't have let you take those shots," he said, dropping Erin's hand and stepping away from her. "I thought you could handle them. But if you want sulk then be my guest. I thought you could behave like an adult-"

"Oh, for God's sake, Ryan, you sound like Dad! I'm not a kid-"

"Then why are you acting like one? It's embarrassing. You're behaving like a brat."

The siblings stood glaring at each other, arms folded, blue eyes boring into blue. It was Erin who cracked first. She turned on her heel and stalked back towards the bar, deliberately finishing the glass of Scotch when she knew Ryan was watching her. It tasted disgusting, not at all like she expected, and the burning sensation brought tears to her eyes, but she downed it in one and slammed the glass down defiantly.

Now they'd see who was behaving like a kid.

_TBC..._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Any feedback is much appreciated and greatly valued. I hope you enjoyed!_


	2. Chapter 2

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for the assorted follows/favourites/reviews! They were very much appreciated :)_

Chapter 2

Erin's rebellion was over before it had begun. She looked too young to be in the club as it was, let alone get served, and she didn't have the nerve to charm someone into buying her a cocktail. She took a sip of Ryan's abandoned pint and very nearly spat it out- it tasted worse than the Scotch, like carbonated soy sauce or some equally vile concoction. So she returned, gloomily, to her Coke, drumming her fingernails irritably on the bar as she watched her brother determinedly avoid her gaze. A quick glance to her right showed her that Matt had was _still_ talking to the man from Ford. She supposed she ought to go and dance, socialise, but she suddenly felt very tired. Maybe it was the alcohol, but her head and ears were throbbing and her throat was sore from shouting over the music. Yawning widely, she scrabbled around in her bag for her phone: three text messages from her mother and four missed calls. Brilliant.

21:43- _Hi sweetheart. Just finishing up. Hope you've had a good day. See you soon._

22:07- _We're on our way home. See you in about twenty minutes._

22:21- _We're caught up in those roadworks near Hinckley. Probably won't be back until about quarter to. See you then._

22:53- _You have 1 new voicemail from Mum Mobile_

23:02- _You have 1 new voicemail from Dad Mobile_

23:08- _You have 1 new voicemail from Home_

23:14- _You have 1 new voicemail from Home_

Erin swore under her breath. Ryan had promised, promised _faithfully_ that their parents would be at work until at least 2am, by which time they themselves would be back at home! The idiot. They really were for it now, both of them, but Ryan more so than Erin- he'd get it in the neck from their father for potentially exposing his younger sister to possible rapists and drug-dealers and kidnappers. Their mother would cry, Erin would be grounded and Ryan, as likely as not, would storm out of the house and take the train straight back to Warwick, leaving Erin to deal with her fuming parents alone. That was the way it usually went. Everything started out as a bit of fun, until their mother and father found out and all hell broke loose. Sometimes Erin felt as though the tight leash her parents held her on was strangulating her.

Her mobile rang again; Erin couldn't hear it over the row in the club, but _Home_ flashed up on the screen. She hesitated for an agonising second, finger hovering over the answer button, before bottling it and pressing 'reject'. She threw the phone back into her bag. She needed to find Ryan and break the news. The longer they were out, the worse it would be for them when they finally returned home.

She began to push her way through the crowd, earning herself several black looks and drunken curses as she knocked aside kissing couples and grinding girls. The flashing lights were making her feel dizzy and she very nearly careered into a security guard sternly parading the perimeter of the dance floor. Stammering her apologies, she swung round to see Dylan entertaining a group of women at a nearby table, all of whom were gazing adoringly at him over their cocktails. Her heart fluttered in relief, even as a quick glance over at the clock showed her that it was now eleven thirty. As far as their parents were concerned, they'd been missing for over an hour and a half.

"Dylan!" she called. He didn't hear her. Sighing in frustration (and furiously trying to quash the panic that was beginning to well up inside of her), she fought her way over to him and tapped him urgently on the shoulder, ignoring the mixture of surprised and threatening looks she received from the girls surrounding him. "I need to find Ryan," she bellowed over the din, "Our parents are onto us."

To Dylan's credit, he immediately jumped up, despite the beseeching of the members of his table. Throwing down some cash and instructing the girls to "get the next round in", he grabbed Erin by the hand and pulled her through the crowd, his towering height and muscular build commandeering an air of authority that Erin, at five foot two and a size eight, did not possess.

"Where did you last see him?" he yelled.

Erin gestured haphazardly in the direction of the bar. "But that was ages ago."

Dylan pulled out his iPhone, scrolling through his contacts before holding the device up to his ear. He pulled it away a few seconds later, shaking his head and mouthing "Voicemail". Erin was by now feeling quite frantic; if they didn't start to make their way back soon then their parents would probably get the police onto them. Noticing her distress, Dylan thumped her on the back and pulled her into an awkward hug.

"Cheer up," he yelled, making a valiant attempt at breeziness. "He'll be around."

"Should we split up?"

Dylan shook his head again vehemently, gripping Erin's hand slightly tighter as a rabble of rowdy rugby boys jostled past, waving a large silver trophy in the air and drenching the crowd in a deluge of warm beer. "Better to stick together," he roared, and proceeded to drag Erin off to the other side of the room.

* * *

It took them a good ten minutes to find Ryan, despite the fact that the club was little bigger than the average school hall. Erin was close to tears as she felt her mobile vibrate repeatedly in her bag, knowing how much trouble they were going to be in- not only for going out without telling their parents, but also for ignoring their attempts at contact. She supposed it was cowardice, but she would rather face their wrath at home with Ryan beside her than receive it over the phone; words were often harsher and threats more easily made when one couldn't see the person they were angry with. Ryan would often tease her for "turning on the waterworks" when their parents shouted at them, but they could be terrifying when they wanted to be- Erin felt as though they went into 'senior-slayer-officials' mode when they were angry with her. It was at times like this that she wondered what in God's name possessed her to provoke her parents in such ways.

They eventually found Ryan sat gloomily at one of the large metal tables, surrounded by empty shot glasses, next to a rather awkward-looking Eddie who appeared to be both texting and attempting consolations at the same time. He scuttled off gratefully, giving his friend an encouraging clap on the back as Dylan and Erin sat themselves down opposite. Ryan didn't look up- Dylan thumped him hard on the arm.

"Check your messages," he mouthed, waving his iPhone in the air. Ryan shot him a quizzical look before Erin, knowing how long her brother's old Nokia took to boot up, pulled her own mobile out of her bag and thrust it across the table at him. He accepted it without looking at her. He scanned the reel of messages quickly, eyes widening in horror as he saw how many voicemails had been left (the total stood at nine), before hurriedly scrabbling around for his coat. Throwing Erin's phone back to her, he staggered to his feet; he shouted something at Dylan about making his apologies to the others before gesturing frantically to Erin to stick close by him as they fought their way out of the club. Erin shakily dropped her phone back into her bag, throwing her own coat around her shoulders as she clung to the back of Ryan's jacket. The exit was lit up by a huge neon sign, the green bulbs bright enough to scorch retinas- the pair battled their way over and stumbled out of the door, the sweat freezing on their flesh as the glacial night air hit them in full force. The temperature drop made Erin feel quite winded and she had to take a couple of deep, calming breaths. The sharpness of the night tore at the back of her throat.

The long walk home began in silence. The sky was even darker than it had been before, no longer indigo but onyx; black, but a light black, if such a thing exists, streaked thinly with deep green and scattered with those jagged chips of rock that burn so fiercely up in space and yet, from the ground, merely glimmer like fragments of the Arctic. The air was still, expectant, lingering on the threshold of late night and early morning. There was less traffic on the roads now; the pair didn't even have to use the pedestrian crossings. The shops and restaurants had been shut up, no longer bestowing the security of their warm, comforting light upon the streets where Erin and Ryan now walked, their footsteps echoing heavily on the frosted concrete. The area was devoid of people. It was how one might imagine an apocalypse, but one that had been so meticulously organised that there were no fires or floods or other such hazards left behind to mar the landscape. The sky was unusually cloudless and the moon, a huge, milky, fully-formed orb, glowed silver-white. Erin shivered as she looked at it, pulling her coat tighter about her shoulders; she had never before seen the moon to be this large, this intruding- a mesmerising yet unnecessary blot upon what would otherwise be an endless expanse of empty sky.

"Have you listened to the voicemails?" Ryan asked her suddenly. Erin shook her head, staring very hard at the pavement beneath her feet. She didn't think she'd ever been so cold in her life. Or so scared. She jumped in surprise as she felt her brother's jacket-clad arm slide around her shoulders, bracing her, all memories of their earlier argument forgotten in the face of their impending doom.

"What time is it?" she managed to force out.

"Nearly quarter to twelve," Ryan answered grimly, quickly checking his watch. He gripped Erin's shoulder slightly tighter as he noticed a tall man carrying a shopping bag on the other side of the street, though he was walking in the opposite direction.

"Do you think-" Erin began, but stopped. It was a stupid question, really.

"Do I think they'll be angry?" Ryan finished for her. She nodded glumly; Ryan grimaced. "Of course they'll be angry, Erin, when are they not? I'll just say that I dragged you along with me, that I wouldn't let you stay at home on your own."

"But then they'll be angrier with you! You invited me; you didn't make me come-"

"I was the one who organised it in the first place without telling them."

"Well, I didn't tell them either-"

"Erin!" Ryan groaned in frustration. "I'm trying to get you off the hook here!"

"I don't want you to get me off the hook!" With her brother's arm around her, Erin suddenly felt a lot braver. He'd never been afraid of their parents, not in the way she was, and it made her feel a little steadier. "If either of us is going to go down, we'll go down together, okay?" She dug him in the ribs with the point of her elbow. "_Okay_?"

Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically, but grinned all the same. "Fine," he conceded, "But let me do the talking, alright? I know how to handle them."

Erin spluttered in protest. "Ryan, the last time the two of us were in trouble you almost smashed that carriage clock above the mantelpiece and you called Dad an 'oppressive, overbearing autocrat'!" She laughed in spite of herself at the memory. "I bet you'd been dying to whip that one out for weeks."

"Excuse me, but didn't I hear you call Dad 'chauvinistic' the other day?"

"Well, he was saying you should drop out of Warwick and join the army and it just-"

"Well, well," rang out an arrogant voice from behind them, inexplicably halting the pair of them in their tracks, "It looks like I'm in the right place at the right time- for once." The voice resonated coolly about the empty streets, alight with malicious glee, hanging in the frozen air like liquid. It was unmistakeably female, and its silken tones raised goose bumps that had nothing to do with the temperature as Erin felt strong, cold hands clamp down crushingly on her shoulder-blades. "Dinner _and_ dessert."

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for the reviews thus far! This chapter turned out to be a little darker than I originally anticipated, so I might put this fic's current rating of K+ up to T. I hope that's ok with everyone :)_

Chapter 3

A decisive click of someone's fingers and the street-lights went out. The lamps glowing in every bedroom window, the glare of every television screen- the entire street and its surroundings were plunged into a sudden, impenetrable darkness. Even the moonlight was extinguished as huge, thick, rolling clouds accosted the sky, blotting out the cold glimmer of the stars. A strong night breeze had picked up, whistling eerily through the threadbare trees and rattling the window-panes of the shops and houses. The distant growl of the traffic had stilled; the drunken shouts being carried from the town centre on the sudden wind were extinguished. It was as though a thick blanket had settled over the street, muffling every sound, smothering every particle of light in order to trap those who were foolhardy enough to tread its pavements at midnight. The cold, bruising hands were still compressing Erin's shoulders in an iron-grip; she couldn't have turned around even if the fear, irrational as it was, hadn't been gluing her feet to the concrete.

"I'll save the girl till later," the female voice said carelessly, exuding a clear cut sense of authority as it drew closer to the frozen pair, "She'll be sweeter than him." It appeared her word was gospel, as the hands holding Erin somehow managed to unstick her feet from the floor and yank her over to a nearby wall, shoving her unceremoniously, face-first, against it. Erin was quick enough off the mark to turn her head to the side to avoid having her nose broken, which only resulted in her left ear being pressed uncomfortably against the cold brick. The unyielding hands had moved from her shoulders: one was keeping her head against the wall, the other exerting pressure upon the small of her back. She struggled slightly, but it was futile- the strength this man possessed (she assumed her captor was a man from the roughness with which he had carried out the female's orders) was unnatural. Curiously, she couldn't feel his breath on the back of her neck. She didn't even hear an intake of breath as she dug the heel of her shoe into his foot in a desperate attempt at an escape. Erin had no idea what was going on, but being confronted and assaulted on a dark night in what wasn't exactly the friendliest part of town didn't bode well- they both had mobiles, she supposed, and a little money, but that would hardly make for a profitable mugging. If that was what this was, of course. Because that commanding voice had definitely said something about 'dinner and dessert'…

The female didn't even glance at Erin as she swept past, her large, dark eyes fixed solely upon Ryan, who was currently being restrained by two other men. All three were so pale that their skin seemed somewhat translucent in the darkness; an unnatural, almost ghostly light seemed to emit from them, leaving the absence of the moon and street-lamps a matter of no concern. The two men were tall and muscular- not particularly burly but certainly burlier than Ryan, who preferred fixing gym equipment to actually using it. Their hair looked black in the darkness (though it could just as easily have been brown), and it contrasted vividly with the paleness of their flawless skin. They looked to be little older than Ryan- perhaps mid-twenties, at a push- and yet, despite her brother's best efforts, he seemed to be unable to throw them off. All four members of the party appeared to be freakishly strong for their age and build. Dressed head to toe in black leather, they almost blended in with their surroundings.

Apart from the female. She gave off the impression that she had never blended in in her life, and had no intention of ever doing so. She had her back to Erin as she stalked towards Ryan, a predatory smile tugging at the corner of her strikingly full mouth, lip curling slightly as she observed his frantic attempts to free himself. Watching her brother's struggles gave Erin new heart and she began to writhe desperately in her captor's grip, emitting a strangled yelp as he let his weight fall in on her, trapping her completely between his body and the wall.

"Keep the little rat quiet, Georg," said the female coolly, not looking round, "It's got a while to wait yet." The amusement and- was it possible?- _anticipation_ in the stranger's voice caused another spasm of fear in the pit of Erin's stomach. The dampness of the wall was beginning to seep through the thin material of her dress and she shivered, the biting night air burrowing into her flesh until she felt as though her very blood was turning to ice. She blinked hard several times, the sharpness of the breeze bringing painful tears to her eyes. There were plenty of houses surrounding them- even in what must be a power-cut there would still be a good few people to hear her if she screamed. And yet her tongue seemed to have swelled to twice its normal size. She couldn't get it to work. It was as though, at the very moment when she needed it most, her voice had taken flight and deserted her.

The female paused in front of Ryan, facing him squarely. She had stood deliberately, pointedly, within his personal space. She still had her back to Erin as she leant in very close and- Erin tensed subconsciously- _whispered_ something in his ear. Ryan stiffened suddenly. Even through the darkness, Erin could see the pupils of his blue eyes dilate in- in what? Surprise? Anger? Fear?

The stranger began to circle Ryan slowly, her large eyes glinting like jewels, like liquid despite the lack of light, as she looked him purposefully up and down. Even in such a moment of terror and uncertainty as this, Erin felt a pang of envy as she observed the smoothness of stranger's skin, which was glowing as incandescently as her companions'. Her hair was thick, shoulder length and undisputedly black, perfectly straight and gleaming, with bangs that suited her in a way that they could never have suited Erin. She had bone structure to die for- Erin could have cut herself on such well-defined cheekbones- and a figure of such hourglass proportions that Erin couldn't be sure that she wasn't wearing a corset. The self-assuredness of this stranger, however, who was so clearly in control of all who came across her, told Erin that she wasn't the type to alter herself to suit anyone else. That ample chest, that miniscule waist, those rounded hips were all _natural_. And alongside such long, slender legs, set off perfectly by the black leather leggings she wore, Erin could feel what little confidence she had in her own appearance trickling away. No wonder none of the boys in the club had given her a second glance. Next to this perfect specimen she would have borne a closer resemblance to a troll than a human being.

The female had completed her inspection. Her eyes had roved over her prey from every angle, and Ryan was still stood as stiff and as unmoving as a pillar. Erin's initial fear and confusion was beginning to give way to irritation; she was frozen to her core, with a set of very angry parents waiting for her at home, and these people had made no attempt at explanation. Muggings tended to be quick, didn't they? The criminals simply stole the valuables and scarpered, lest the victim have the chance to recognise them? But this little group appeared to have no worries about that. Erin was quite sure, particularly given their distinctive appearances, that she'd be able to describe three of the four to the police. She hadn't had a chance to look at whoever was holding her, but Ryan would have seen his face. And she knew he was called Georg, which wasn't exactly a common name nowadays- not in Britain, anyway…

But then surely, surely if these strangers were so supremely unconcerned about being identified later then that could only mean one thing… that they weren't going to be giving Erin and Ryan the _chance_ to identify them later…

Erin felt a cold, plunging sensation around her navel as realisation crashed over her. Were these four strangers planning on _murdering_ them?

The panic hit her in full force then. She'd always prided herself on her ability to keep a cool head in adverse situations, but then she'd never before been faced with the possibility of her and her brother losing their lives. Even during her slayer training- which had been relatively casual so far, just weekly classes on a Saturday and a residential weekend once a month- she'd never really been told what to do in a life or death situation. Though that would hardly help her now, of course; it wasn't like she had a stake at hand, even if they _were_ being confronted by members of the undead. She began to struggle once again, even though she knew that it was useless, that this man was never going to relinquish his grip; she had to do _something_, she couldn't just stand there placidly and wait for them to kill her-

"Can't you get rid of this one first?" Georg growled, the hand holding Erin's head against the wall fisting in her hair. "Or better yet- can't I?" Erin almost gagged at the excitement in his voice, the white-hot panic burning her chest, searing at her heart as she felt his hand move up from the small of her back to close around her throat-

"They're mine, both of them," the female said sharply, pausing in her cross-examination of Ryan's neck but still not deigning to look at her companion. "I've always made it very clear which ones are to be mine and I'll thank you to remember that. I'll have this broader one-" she prodded Ryan hard in the shoulder- "to start, and then I'll finish off with that sweet little one- who seems to be causing you _so_ much bother, Georg." She drew her head back suddenly from Ryan's neck to sniff the air. "Oh, yes," she said softly, a wide smile spreading across her lipstick-stained mouth, "Yes, yes, _yes_." She seemed to be fighting the impulse to turn around. She licked her lips slowly, eyes fluttering closed as her smile widened. "I do so love the taste of virgin blood. It has a certain… _purity_ to it, does it not, Georg? Untainted, if you like."

Georg made a keening sound, low in his throat, and Erin felt his grip tighten even further. The mist was beginning to clear; a light was becoming visible through the fog; the jigsaw was beginning to fit together as the words "dinner" and "dessert" and "blood" and "taste" spun faster and faster around her brain… it was as though the cogs needed oiling; they were turning painfully slowly and Erin was close to screaming in frustration… the examination of Ryan's neck- the pale skin, the dark hair, the black clothing- the abnormal strength, the coldness of their touch…

Erin felt as though the ground beneath her feet was crumbling away as the pieces, suddenly, without warning, fell gracefully into place with a resounding click. How had she missed it? Was she really _that_ pathologically stupid? Granted, one didn't expect to come across such creatures on a Friday night in Leicester town centre but she was a trained slayer, for God's sake- it should have been obvious, it _was_ obvious…

This- this stranger, this captivatingly beautiful stranger with a presence that demanded one's immediate and undivided attention- this stranger was a vampire. And Georg, too, must be a vampire. And the two men holding Ryan. And they were going to drain her and her brother dry. Well, the female was at least; the three men were only there to do the man-handling. _She_ wouldn't risk breaking one of her scarlet talons, perfectly painted, on something as dirty, as infected, as inferior as a breather.

Tiny black dots were beginning to obstruct Erin's vision. Wave after wave of panic engulfed her as she tried to concentrate on breathing, on stopping the world from turning upside down as her brain calmly informed her, over and over again, that she was about to die. Slayers weren't allowed to begin their training until the age of sixteen, and even then the classes weren't serious until the recruits turned eighteen; Erin had only been in training for little over a year, and that had been mainly focused on fitness and agility. It was Ryan, at twenty, who knew _how_ to slay, who knew how to handle a stake and a UV bomb and counter-act a vampire's immense speed…

"I think she's getting hysterical," Georg announced dubiously, as Erin's chest heaved with the effort of keeping herself under control, her shallow, ragged breaths forming icy clouds of white smoke in the frozen air. The female ignored him, her face inches from Ryan's as she spoke in a whisper that carried in the stillness of the night:

"I think she's finally worked it out, don't you? And she sounds ever so scared. I bet she's never met a real vampire before, has she?"

Ryan said nothing. He remained staring straight ahead, his eyes blank, focused upon a spot in the distance. The wicked smile curved the female's lips again. She leant closer to him, a dark laugh escaping her as she noticed his involuntary flinch.

"Let's give her something to scream about, shall we?"

Erin felt her grip on reality slip away as Ingrid chortled softly, displaying the sharp points of four gleaming fangs, before proceeding to plunge them into Ryan's neck, the deafening chiming of the cathedral clock announcing the arrival of a new day.

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: So here's another one for you! I think we are definitely looking at closer to ten chapters rather than five the way this fic is going. Thank you for the reviews :) I hope you enjoy this. Oh and the rating is definitely going to go up to T. I hope that's ok with everyone._

Chapter 4

Erin had never fainted in her life. The sheer amount of sport she was forced to play required her to possess a cast-iron constitution. Therefore, when the female vampire sunk her fangs into the tender flesh of Ryan's neck, Erin was just about able to maintain her consciousness, though the street flashed and whirled before her eyes as though she were trapped inside a kaleidoscope. Her brother's excruciating cry of agony at the sheer brutality with which his humanity was ripped from his throat was harder to ignore; it tore at Erin's chest like a dagger, slicing through her until she was almost sobbing with the pain. She needed to sit down, to draw in deep, steady gasps of the night air, to close her eyes and pretend that this wasn't happening, that it wasn't real… but Georg still had her pinioned to the wall and she knew that it would be her turn next. The female was obviously aware that Erin was the physically weaker of the two- there was no point in denying it, even compared to Ryan she was puny- and had deliberately kept her till last so as to subject her to this torment, this torture. The toll of the cathedral bells resonated in Erin's ears, causing her eardrums to throb; the tears froze on her face as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to block out the sickening sound of blood dripping onto the filthy pavement.

A vicious torrent of swear words suddenly exploded from Erin's right. There was a gagging noise, then the thud of a body hitting the floor, followed shortly by the sound of someone staggering. Erin felt the tremendous pressure bearing down upon her body lift as Georg ran to assist whoever was in danger of falling. She remained where she was, frozen to the spot, eyes still resolutely closed as the frantic shouts and cries of the female's companions echoed around the empty street.

"What's happened?"

"What's wrong?"

"Shall I finish him off for you?"

Erin jumped as a snarl, verging on animalistic in its depravity, cut the three men off. "Idiots!" rang out the female's voice, oddly choked and restricted, "Can't you see there's something wrong with his blood? No!" she shrieked, and Erin's eyes flew open, though she continued to stand stock-still, as though she would blend in with the red brick if she didn't move. "Leave the girl too. She's probably got whatever he has. Filthy little peasants." There was the sound of someone spitting contemptuously onto the pavement. "Come on- we'll be able to find a bottle or two back in Merseyside." Her voice had grown fainter, as though the mere effort of stringing words into a sentence was draining her. "If we go now we can beat the dawn."

Georg threw Erin one last longing look, his narrow eyes darkening as they skimmed over her exposed jugular, before the entire party transformed into bats- _bats!_- and seemed to dissolve into the night. They were denser than the black of the sky as they rose serenely into the frozen air. Their departure brought the return of the streetlights, the glare of the televisions, the glow of the bedroom lamps; the heavy clouds dissipated, rolling their way back across the sky to expose the pearly sphere of the full moon in all its glory. The stars twinkled innocently overhead. The breeze had dropped as suddenly as it had picked up, and the growl of the traffic from the distant motorway was once again distinguishable. The night was calm and still once more. It was almost as though the four malevolent strangers had never visited at all.

"Erin…" Ryan's voice broke the hush. It was hoarse, fractured. Erin finally turned away from the wall, terrified of what she might see- the resultant wave of nausea at the scene before her caused her to stumble to the nearest bin and retch violently.

The entire left side of Ryan's neck was covered in blood. A red stain was spreading steadily across the collar of his shirt as he lay, twitching, upon the concrete. His eyes fluttered as he fought to remain conscious, his limbs stiff and taut. His breathing was harsh, ragged as his hands fisted in his jacket; he attempted to sit up before collapsing back onto the pavement, spasms rippling through his body like shockwaves. Erin, wiping her mouth shakily on the sleeve of her coat, lurched over to him, her legs feeling like water. Her knees gave out and she crashed down beside him. Her body was so numb with cold that she couldn't feel any pain from the impact.

"Erin…" Ryan murmured again, shifting onto his back with an agonised groan. His mouth formed further words but no sound came out. Erin placed her coat tenderly beneath his head; the shock of the biting night air on her bare arms made her gasp.

"Don't talk," she said thickly, her voice wavering out of control, hands shaking as she fumbled to undo his tie. "Don't say anything. Just stay still, ok? Don't try and move." Removing the tie as gently as she could, Erin folded it into four and began to dab at the wound at her brother's neck, his every wince and hiss of pain forcing even more scalding tears out of her eyes. Her frozen hands became soaked in blood; the way it warmed her fingers almost made her retch again.

"You're getting- me wet," Ryan croaked, smiling weakly as Erin's tears dripped off the end of her chin and splashed onto his face. She swiped at her eyes hastily, smearing blood across her cheeks. Ryan grimaced, reaching up to try and remove the blood with his sleeve, but Erin clasped his hand and returned it gently to his side. The smell of the open wound was making her head spin with dizziness. The tie was by now completely sodden with blood, though the flow had begun to slow a fraction.

"There's a b-bottle," Ryan gasped, squeezing Erin's hand so tightly she thought he might crush her bones, "In m-my jacket p-p-pocket." His eyes flickered to his left. He released Erin's hand; she quickly shook the feeling back into her fingers before reaching across him, fumbling in the left-hand pocket of his jacket as gently as she could. Her fingers brushed glass. She drew the bottle out, the harsh glow of the streetlight illuminating a miniature of IS Vodka. Even in her state of terror, she couldn't help but throw her brother a disbelieving look. He shrugged awkwardly, inhaling sharply as his collar brushed against the puncture wounds at his throat.

"The b-barman slipped it t-to m-me," he said, a touch defensively. "I t-told him it was m-my b-birthday." He made frantic movements with his eyes. "Use it t-to sterilise."

It took Erin a moment to figure out what Ryan meant. She blinked at him in confusion before the realisation dawned on her. Hands trembling, she unscrewed the metal lid of the tiny glass bottle, very nearly spilling its contents on the ground as her entire body convulsed. Slowly, she brought the bottle towards Ryan's neck.

"This will hurt," she told him, her voice barely louder than a whisper. There was a large, painful lump obstructing her throat. He didn't reply, but closed his eyes tightly, visibly gritting his teeth. Erin took a deep, shuddering breath, in a vain attempt to steady herself and, with painstaking caution, tilted the little bottle over the injury at her brother's neck.

Ryan's strangled cry shattered the tranquillity of the night. His own tears mingled with Erin's as the sobs were torn from her throat, white-hot tears scorching her face as she poured the alcohol over her brother's wound. The bottle empty, her job done, she collapsed onto his chest, burying her face in the warmth of his jacket. Agonised sobs wracked her tiny frame as she felt her brother's hands scrabble at her back, clutching the thinness of her coat in his fists as he waited for the sting of the sterilisation to subside. Erin's knees were screaming in protest at being subjected to the hard ground for such an extended period, and her back was aching from being hunched over, but it was nothing compared to the stabbing, jagged pain lacerating her chest. The fluctuating rising and falling of her brother's ribs was all that broke through her state of delirium, the only thing that reminded her, that kept her _certain_ that he was still alive, that he was still a fully functioning human… for the time being.

* * *

Looking back on that night, analysing it in detail (as would become her obsession), Erin could not recall how long the pair of them lay there, unmoving, on the pavement. It was just as well that the streets were deserted; anyone happening across them, seeing the blood that drenched Ryan's neck and stained Erin's hands, would no doubt give their view halloo and bring the emergency services down upon them in an instant. As it was, they remained undisturbed. After what seemed like days, and yet it could only have been mere minutes, Erin raised her head from Ryan's chest. Her eyes were bleary, her face stiff with tears as she sat up, groping around in the dimness for her bag. She levered herself unsteadily to her feet, swaying slightly as her eyes slid out of focus. There was a blackness gathering in the corners of her vision and yet, although she desperately longed to float away upon a wave of oblivion, she refused to succumb. Her brother needed her. She had to hang on.

"Do you think you can walk?" she asked him softly. Her voice cracked.

Ryan opened his eyes. He lifted a hand gingerly to his throat, shuddering forcibly as his fingers grazed the wound and the dry blood encrusting it. He swallowed determinedly. "Help me up," he said, by way of an answer. Erin leant down to support his back as he raised himself slowly into a sitting position; the mere effort of that action alone quickened his breaths and she had to allow him a minute to regain his balance before she summoned all the strength she possessed to bolster him to his feet. Her right hand had seized up around the empty bottle. She couldn't let it go.

Ryan, sucking his teeth, draped Erin's crumpled coat around her shoulders. It was dark and sticky with blood. He threw his right arm around her, mumbling a series of unintelligible apologies as most of his weight fell in on her. Erin's legs only wobbled for a moment before she gathered herself together, encouraging her brother to place as much of his weight on her as he could. Her left arm snaked around his waist in a further attempt to support him. She was now so cold she couldn't think straight.

"Are you- ok?" Ryan panted as the pair of them took a few hesitant steps forward. Erin bit back a groan as his right foot landed heavily on hers. "You're not- hurt?"

Erin shook her head to clear it, gritting her own teeth as she half-dragged her brother another few feet along the street. "No. Bit bruised. I'll be fine."

"Sure?"

"Ryan," she gasped, pausing momentarily by a lamppost to catch her breath, "S'not me- you need to worry- 'bout. You've got a set of holes- in the side- of your throat." She stopped again- Ryan groaned in impatience. "Why did they just leave like that?"

"How about we have this conversation when it's not half past twelve on a Saturday morning and neither of us are in danger of either freezing or bleeding to death?"

Erin rolled her eyes, a scowl creasing her face, but she didn't have the energy to argue. She pushed herself (albeit regrettably) away from the lamppost, and so they went on.

The walk home, which in normal circumstances only took a few minutes, proceeded to take a further quarter of an hour. Erin had to pause at the end of every street to muster her rapidly fading strength; the rush of adrenaline was beginning to wear off and she was by now desperately tired. Her entire body was stiff and aching, the very marrow of her bones benumbed by the piercing cold. Ryan was trying his hardest to support his own weight, but the difference in their heights meant that his pelvis dug into her side as he tried to hoist himself off her shoulder. Erin wove her left hand into the material of his jacket, trying to coax some warmth into her frozen fingers.

Finally, the pair turned the corner into the street of grand six-bedroomed houses. Erin really was flagging now, her feet dragging along the pavement as the sleek silver gleam of her father's BMW came into sight. She felt no relief- only another surge of fear as she noticed the silhouettes of two people in the glass of the bay window. Limping up the driveway, Ryan reached out to grasp the handle of the front door. Resting her pounding head for a moment on his shoulder, Erin took a deep, steadying breath- and braced herself for the explosion as the door swung open.

_TBC..._


	5. Chapter 5

_DISCLAIMER: see Chapter 1_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I couldn't cram the confrontation into one chapter so I've split it into two. Thank you once again for your reviews. I'm off on my practice Silver DofE expedition tomorrow and I won't be back until Tuesday (assuming, of course, that I don't get mauled by a savage bull with horns) so the next update is unlikely to be for a little while. I'll try and get another one in before I start back at school on the 15th. Enjoy this chapter..._

Chapter 5

The house was silent. The hall was empty, the lights switched off. Erin pulled Ryan over the threshold and shut the front door behind them as softly as possible, as if, by some miracle, their parents wouldn't hear it. The door to the living room stood ajar. As quietly as they could, the pair removed their shoes, Ryan hissing sharply as his collar brushed his wound. Erin remained in her coat. Stepping into the warm house had been like taking the breath of life, but she was still shivering. Her right hand, which had been clenched around the tiny glass bottle, was beginning to unfreeze and, in a dull shock of pain, Erin noticed the shards of glass sticking into her palm. Her hand had been so numb that she hadn't felt the bottle shatter. Her own blood, as warm as Ryan's had been, streamed steadily down to her wrist to mingle with her brother's. She picked the shards out as best she could whilst Ryan divested himself of his sodden jacket, and pushed her hand into her coat packet. She huddled herself further into the thin material as they hovered uncertainly in the darkened hall.

"What do we do?" she mouthed. Ryan grimaced, throwing a longing look at the stairwell before squaring his shoulders. He grabbed her left hand and squeezed it.

"Best get it over with," he muttered. He turned up the collar of his shirt, so as to hide the marks on his neck, and prodded the living room door fully open with his foot.

Their parents were stood by the bay window that overlooked the drive. They didn't turn around as the siblings entered the room, Ryan leaning heavily on Erin as the sweat beaded on his forehead. The curtains hadn't been drawn, and moonlight streamed in to illuminate the stuffiness of the lounge. Large, chintz armchairs with a matching three-seat sofa; a mahogany coffee table, polished with beeswax by the cleaning lady who visited twice a week; heavy, damask curtains; a brick fireplace, modest in decoration but certainly intended to be the centrepiece of the room. The house, built in the early 80s, had once been the epitome of modern- now, three decades later, the décor was looking rather tired and dated. Their parents had never wanted to waste money on redecorating. They'd only bought a dishwasher last year.

There was tense silence. Erin fidgeted awkwardly, her throat constricted. Her dress suddenly seemed much too short, much too tight, her heels much too high. The anticipation of the explosion was becoming unbearable; she wondered if she oughtn't to break the silence, simply to get it over with. At least that would give her and Ryan a chance to put their side of the story across before-

"So," their father said quietly, and the moment was lost, "Ten to one in the morning. If you were going for a new record then you've certainly achieved it." He turned away from the window. He was still in his work suit, though he'd loosened his tie slightly. He looked tired, the stubble on his face unshaved and his hair, dark brown like Ryan's (though now he was in his early fifties it was flecked with grey), tousled, as if he had been running his hands through it. Their mother was still looking out onto the driveway. "I don't know whether this was supposed to be some sort of practical joke-"

"Dad," Ryan began.

"I'm still talking," their father said, as quietly as before, but his voice was edged with steel. Ryan fell silent immediately, though his free hand clenched surreptitiously into a fist. "I don't know whether this was some sort of practical joke but your mother and I have never been so disappointed. That goes for both of you," he added, turning his gaze sharply onto his daughter. "I expect better from you, Erin."

Erin didn't reply. She knew it wasn't required. She remained staring at the shaft of moonlight streaking the wall behind her father's head, determinedly fighting down a yawn as a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her. She knew how this lecture was going to go- it was always the same. Her head was aching, her injured hand was throbbing, and she just wanted to curl up in bed and pretend tonight had never happened. She felt Ryan squeeze her fingers slightly, and, with a sinking feeling, realised that he was close to snapping.

"So is either of you going to explain where the hell you've been all evening?"

Erin was about to answer before Ryan, his voice unwisely unapologetic, said monotonously from beside her: "Out."

A muscle twitched in their father's cheek. "You're in enough trouble as it is, young man, so don't start getting flippant with me. I want to know where you were, who you were with, why you were there and why the deuce you didn't answer our calls!"

"You don't ask for much, do you?"

Erin gave a little squeak of terror. Did her brother have some form of death wish? Their father took a threatening step towards his son, but Ryan barely even flinched. His eyes were hard, blazing; it was almost- almost as though he didn't _care_ anymore.

"I'm not asking you, Ryan. This kind of irresponsible, inconsiderate behaviour is a recurring theme with you and it's not good enough. And dragging Erin into it as well-"

"He didn't drag me into it!" Erin interjected, the colour rushing to her face as her father stared at her in surprise. "R-Ryan asked me to come and I s-said yes."

"Erin!" her mother groaned, finally turning away from the window herself to stare at her daughter incredulously. "You know what Ryan can be like on a night out-"

"Gee, thanks, Mum," Ryan snarled sarcastically, letting go of Erin's hand abruptly and striding over to the bookcase at the far end of the room. His face in shadow, Erin couldn't see if he was more hurt or angry by the insinuation. Either way, he had left her marooned between their parents to fight the battle alone.

"So come on, then," her father said aggressively (though his tone softened as Erin flinched), "Let's have it all now." He scowled at Ryan seething silently in the corner. "You know you can't go out without permission and come back in the dead of night."

"Anything could have happened," her mother agreed fiercely, moving to stand next to her husband. "You get all sorts of weirdoes hanging around at this time of night."

"Francesca-"

"She's not stupid, Jeremy, she knows who I mean. You only have to read the papers to see what sort of thing goes on in town centres on Friday nights." She fixed Erin with a piercing stare. "I'm assuming that's where you were? The town? Judging by your clothes and the smell of alcohol the pair of you have brought in."

"We- we thought we'd go out for Ryan's birthday," Erin mumbled, tugging subconsciously on the hem of her dress. It really wasn't _that_ short, was it? Knee-length was acceptable, surely? There had been other girls in the club wearing worse.

"And it didn't occur to you to clear it with us first?"

"We didn't think you'd let us go."

"And so you went anyway. Even though you thought that."

Erin stared hard at the floor, her eyes misty and unfocused. The lump in her throat was making it painful to swallow. She shifted from foot to foot, flushing scarlet as she felt her parents' eyes boring into the top of her head. The pain in her hand was becoming even more pronounced as her body returned to its normal temperature. She glanced over at Ryan, silently begging him to swoop in and save her, but he had his back to them. He was clutching at the bookcase for support, and the memory of the night's events suddenly swirled, raw and vivid, to the forefront of her mind. She choked. Pushing past her parents, she sat down shakily on the sofa, placing her head in her uninjured hand as she willed herself not to vomit over the Persian rug.

"Erin? Are you alright?" She felt the sofa cushions sink as her mother sat down beside her, placing a tentative hand on her back. Dimly, she heard her father growl:

"Did you give her alcohol?"

"Two shots, maybe three," Ryan answered in a bored voice, "Nothing she isn't old enough to handle."

"She's never even had a glass of wine before!" their mother cried indignantly, and Erin's hands slid up to cover her ears with a muffled groan. "Has she been sick?"

Ryan hesitated. "Of sorts," he said eventually. Their father drew himself up.

"_Of sorts_?" he thundered. "What's that supposed to mean, _of sorts_? Either she has or she hasn't, there's no halfway house-"

"Jesus Christ!" Ryan roared, swinging around and pushing himself away from the bookcase, "She's not six! If you keep her wrapped up in cotton wool for much longer then she'll be easy pickings for rapists and murderers and creepy old men when she finally goes out into the real world. We're adults now- you can't keep controlling what we do and who we see. Especially when half the time you aren't even around."

"Your father and I have integral jobs at the Guild," their mother snapped, "Do you think we enjoy missing things like your 20th birthday because we're stuck at work?"

"You made that choice. You made the choice to have Erin and I, and you made the choice to carry on working at the Guild. You can hardly expect us- at this age!- to stay at home twiddling our thumbs instead of going out and being normal for once."

Their father narrowed his eyes. "And what do you mean by that? Normal _for once_?"

Ryan scoffed. In the unearthly gleam of the moonlight he looked quite frightening. "You force Erin to play all this sport even though she hates it and she wants to do ballet. You come down and visit me practically every other week to 'see how I'm doing': it's embarrassing! No-one else's parents do that! Have you any idea how much stick I get from Dylan and Eddie and all the rest? How much stick Erin gets at school? It's hard enough being a teenager without having to put up with this crap!"

Their mother rose to her feet, turning to look hopelessly at her husband. "He must be drunk, Jeremy, else he wouldn't be-"

"I'M NOT DRUNK!" Ryan roared, and everyone jumped. "See! This is what I mean!"

"Ryan-" Erin began, lurching up unsteadily from the sofa, but he waved her down.

"Don't, Erin. I'm fed up with them completely disregarding what we have to say."

"Ryan, please," she begged, taking a few ungainly steps towards him, "Now isn't the time. You need to get to bed, you need to rest-"

"No-one is going to bed until I find out what went on tonight!"

Without warning, Erin felt a sudden surge of passion ignite inside of her. It was as though an electric current was running through her veins; the blood pounded in her ears and the adrenaline crackled through her nerves as she stumbled to stand before her parents, as though to shield Ryan from the scorching fury of their gaze. She needed to put in her two-pennyworth. She'd longed for the chance for years.

"Ryan's right," she exclaimed, sounding a lot braver than she felt, "You never listen to us. We're not kids anymore- we're going to disagree with you and have our own opinions." She took a deep breath, preparing to continue, but the sudden snap of the light switch disorientated her. The living room flooded with light and for a moment everyone's retinas screamed in protest. Blinking furiously, Erin opened her mouth to speak again- but the sudden expressions of horror on her parents' faces threw her. She turned questioningly to Ryan, whose own face bore a look of grim determination.

"Why are you both covered in blood?"

_TBC..._


End file.
